


Autumn Arrives & Autumn Leaves: (George Washington/Fem!Reader)

by jennthejerk



Series: Hamilton x Reader Fan Fics [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Oh My God, Teacher AU, This is kinda risque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennthejerk/pseuds/jennthejerk
Summary: You and George are teachers during the high school’s annual Fall Festival, and George is forced to wear plaid when his good luck expires.





	Autumn Arrives & Autumn Leaves: (George Washington/Fem!Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Request: “96 and 45 with George Washington  
> “You look pretty hot in plaid” “Stop being grumpy. It’s lame.”  
> A/N: If you recognize some of the teacher’s names from your history class, you’re welcome.

“Wonder who’s gonna get stuck in the dunk tank this year,” Rochambeau commented to no one in particular. The teacher’s lounge was filled nearly to the brim with every teacher on the high school campus. It was the first day of the planning for the annual Fall Festival, and there has always been a teacher in the dunk tank since way back in the fifties.

You laughed with your colleague, knowing that Ben Franklin, the physics teacher, has been dunked six years in a row. It became an inside joke amongst everyone on the staff including himself at his demise. The victim was forced to wear a scarecrow outfit -a flannel shirt and blue jeans- and was subjected to the student body for several hours in a dunk tank activated by a ball hitting the target.

Everyone chose a match, only seeing the wooden end, out of the hand of whoever was dunked last year (Ben). Depending on whether there was more than one with a burned end, the unfortunate souls played three rounds of rock-paper-scissors. This determined who would be dunked, but there wasn’t always more than one burned match. In that case, it was undisputed whose fate was sealed.

Ben Franklin had bad luck and was terrible at rock-paper-scissors.

“Okay, everyone! It’s time for Judgement Day!” A chipper Ms. Ross announced. Everyone went one by one to Ben and picked their match, relief making itself apparent when their match was still a dull red. Yours was still red, and you were now curious to see who would be stuck there.

A shout of glee had come from Franklin, and just like that, his six years of doom were over.

Eventually, the last person had drawn their match. Everyone could always tell who had a burned end because of the way they crossed the room like a man on a mission, praying that they weren’t the only ones with a burned end.

This year, that poor, unfortunate soul was Washington, the debate teacher and baseball coach that has worked at the school for eight years. You were sorry for the man as you witnessed his hope dwindling with every person he saw with a red-tipped match.

Rousseau, the track coach and art teacher, actually wanted to be in the dunk tank yet was never given the chance. It was strange to have someone who wanted to be dunked, but he was a pretty strange guy. Fun and well-liked by the students, but still a tad bit strange. Probably what makes the students like him the way they do.

“Y/N, please tell me someone else has a burned end,” He looked so desperate it made you want to light your match just to save him… almost. “Sorry G-Dubs, I’m not burned and haven’t seen anyone else who is.” You rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in comfort -damn was it toned- to comfort the distressed coach. “Guess this is your year.”

He let out a curse under his breath and it sounded heavenly as it passed from his lips. He was an aphrodisiac that you were blessed to see every day and be friends with. It was almost painful to know that you were by no means the only person aware of his charm.

Everyone’s eyes were now on George as the hope drained from his face little by little and it was strangely comforting to his colleagues. Eventually he asked every single teacher and was the only one with a burned match.

“Betsy, it’s me this year, ain’t it?” George sounded as hopeless as he really was. “Yes indeed it is, Wash,” She replied cheerily. Probably glad that she wasn’t stuck in the tank. “The students are gonna have a riot when they find out,” Rochambeau chuckles, patting George on his back.

“Sorry, George. Wish I could help, but rules are rules,” Mrs. Strong, the home-ec teacher, shrugged her shoulders as everyone began to dispose of their matches. Franklin was smiling like a madman, only hiding it slightly when he passed the defeated George on the way out of the teacher’s lounge.

The morning had only just begun and George was not enjoying it.

 

“Good morning Yorktown High! Fall is on its way and you know what that means: the 70th annual Fall Festival!” Ben Tallmadge’s voice announced from the intercom. Him and another student -Angelica Schuyler, to be exact- were the two students that had been announcing the school news over the intercom since their freshman year three years ago. You had both of them in classes and they were dedicated students, making them ideal for such a task.

“That’s right, Ben! This year’s gonna be just as great as last year and I bet everyone knows why.” Angelica chirped. “Everyone’s favorite physics teacher is back under fire at this year’s Fall Festival for the seventh year-” The intercom cut off and you imagined that the two pupils were being notified of the change of targets.

Rushing to Washington’s classroom -across the hall from yours- you hope you’re able to see his first period’s students reactions when they hear that good ol’ George is being dunked.

The intercom resumes and Ben and Angie are back at it. “Actually, our dear Mr. Franklin’s time is over for now. We will now reveal the new victim of the dunk tank.” Ben pauses to let Angie speak. “Keep in mind we’re finding this out as you do.”

You reach George’s room and nearly die from laughter at the sight. It slipped your mind that some of the most gifted yet difficult students in the school are in first period debate; Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and John Laurens among others. They were going to have a blast once they reveal the name.

George suddenly noticed your presence in his doorway and inwardly cringed. He certainly didn’t want you to see his students badgering him once they heard. George wasn’t really a fan of his authority being tested by his students -which it will be soon- especially in front of you.

The students were at the edge of their seats in anticipation. Alexander noticed you in the doorway as well and waved with a smile. Alex was a stellar writer you actually worked with on some assignment plans for your English class.

You find entertainment in reading some of his essays he writes for a political blog he runs and he’s a fantastic poet. As a matter of fact, you have a poem hanging in your classroom Alex wrote from the point of view of a mother who lost a child. Short, but very moving. You have it listed as “Unknown Author” at his request; why, you have no idea.

“The teacher in the dunk tank this year is…” Ben began, and the duo chorused in a surprised yet enthusiastic “Coach Washington!?” There’s a stunned silence then Angelica affirms it with, “Coach Washington is being dunked this year! Who wouldn’t want to miss this chance?” “Certainly not me, Angie! Don’t throw away your shot to dunk Coach Washington at the Fall Festival the day before Halloween! And with that announcement, we congratulate our dear Mr. Franklin in finally breaking his six-year streak!”

You could hear uproar from neighboring classes through the walls. It was like an apocalypse of teenage voices flooding the halls, bursting eardrums and inducing shame in Washington, who was currently resting his elbows on his desk with his head in his hands. You giggled lightly as you went to his desk to console him and felt the eyes of the debate students burning holes in your back.

“Cheer up Georgie, it’ll be fine.” You sit on the corner of his desk, back towards the students. His classroom’s twenty-odd desks were arranged in a horseshoe, an area in the center serving for the makeshift stage the students presented their arguments on. Plenty of room for a fistfight, you notice. Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s happened before.

Crossing your legs, you turn to where you were facing him. “And stop being grumpy, George. It’s lame.” Your hand rests on his and squeezes it in comfort -wow he has big hands. You heard snickering from a few students as well as chuckles and whistles. If it were possible, George would have been even more ashamed. Now his students were catcalling at your presence in the class. You, however, didn’t mind it as much.

“Easy for you to say, Y/N. It’s not you being stuck in the dunk tank this year.” George sighed, wishing Ben didn’t have to have his first lucky year in over half a decade. “Switch places with him!” “Washy would enjoy that!” “You do it, Ms. Y/L/N!” “And wear a plaid bikini!” Some freshman were shouting over the barely-faded ruckus from the revelation of George’s fate.

George was appalled at the vulgar behavior of the students to say the least, beginning to scold them harshly. “Enough! All of you! You should be ashamed of yourselves!” Silence came over the room instantly. Some students that had never heard George yell before were visibly shaken, including the kids that had made the crude comments. He held such power over his students and it made you wonder how he would be if- You shook the thoughts out of your head; you were at work for crying out loud.

“Y/N I am deeply sorry for their crude language. They will be punished severely for this.” His eyes were sincere in his words, his manner now flustered and ashamed of those students.

As you were about to reply, the bell rang sharply, signalling the beginning of first period. You rose to leave and head to make last-minute changes to your lesson plan for the day, but your hand was grasped by George’s suddenly. “Why not watch a round this morning? You don’t have a class and I need someone to help keep the peace, so whaddaya say? Stay here with me, and watch the chaos unfold.”

You didn’t have a class until the next hour, and more time to spend with the school’s hunk? Of course, where’s the sign-up sheet? It couldn’t hurt anything. George offered you his swivel chair, him opting to sit on one of the empty desks near the center of the room. Nice view of him in those pants and I mean, a /nice/ view. And he wouldn’t even see you staring! Ten points for Hufflepuff!

So you stay, and leave with a better sense of Alexander’s temper, Thomas’s slicing rhetoric, and why George always looks tired this early in the morning.

“I see why debate is such a tough class to teach.” You joke, elbowing George’s side lightly once the students leave. “This is only half of it. I’ve had to break up a few fights in here in recent years,” You had succeeded in getting him to laugh at the seemingly miserable task of being the debate teacher.

“I wonder who they were,” An eyeroll follows and he nods at your dripping sarcasm, confirming the obvious fact that the fights were between Alex and Thomas. You’re about to leave George’s room when you decide to be a little gutsy. Maybe it was from seeing the students unabashedly stand for their opinions and beliefs in the face of others, or maybe it was from being in such close proximity to George for so long.

“And you know what? Maybe being dunked this year isn’t so bad. Besides, I think you’d look pretty hot in plaid. Add water to it, and it’s picture perfect.” With that, you cross the hallway to your classroom where students were already filing in, a spring to your step. Just before you retreat from his view, you shoot a wink at George, frozen in his doorway. He gulps nervously and you smirk in victory, knowing you had made your thoughts known to him and caused him to be embarrassed at the same time.

This day couldn’t be any better.


End file.
